‘No. But… hang on, just a sec, Eve.’ I listen to Bea’s muffled voice speaking to someone, thanking them, ‘no, everything’s fine,’ she’s advising them, and no, they don’t need any help. ‘Sorry about that, Eve, just some random guy asking if there’s a problem.’
Surely not. Surely even you wouldn’t be so barefaced. ‘Who? What guy? Where is he?’
‘No idea. He’s gone now, I think. Anyway, I’ll go and find Matt, tell him what you said. Just get yourself here safely. Okay. Don’t be driving like a lunatic. Eve? Eve? Are you still there, Eve? Hello?’
A strange intermittent buzzing disrupts our conversation. I take the handset from between my shoulder and ear, pulling the screen into focus. Jack’s face. It’s Jack. Jack is calling me. Oh, thank God. I cut poor Bea off without explanation.
‘Hello? Hello, Jack? Jack?’
A torrent of warmth drains through me, as I’m greeted by a gruff oblivious voice. ‘Yeah, Mum, were you trying to call me? I’ve got loads of missed calls from you.’
‘For pity’s sake, Jack. Where are you? Why haven’t you answered my calls?’
‘At home, why? What’s the problem? I didn’t know you were calling me.’ As soon as he says this, I picture him slumped on his bed, back against his wall, playing on his Xbox with an online friend, with headphones on. Ignorant to the outside world. Unaware of my sheer state of dread. Unconscious of you, looming in the shadows.
‘Are you on that game? With your headphones on? On your own?’
‘Yeah, why?’
‘No matter.’ You were wrong, then; you didn’t know after all – you said Jack was not alone at home. ‘Just thought you might have brought someone back with you, nothing more.’
‘No. Oh, yeah, Fyn came back for a bit. He’s just left. Why? What’s wrong? Why are you being weird?’
I didn’t want to hear this, Jack. I really didn’t.
‘I’m not being weird. I worry if I can’t get hold of you, you know I do. Doesn’t matter now. Forget about it. I’ll be home in a jiffy.’
I tell him to go downstairs this instant, to let Bea and Matt in, make them a cup of tea, and have some form of conversation until I arrive. I hope to God he does this before Matt smashes any windows. Now I’m able to catch my breath, I understand I’ve so much explaining to do. What on earth am I to tell Bea and Matt, Ruan too? I must have dropped a further three or four panicky voicemails on his mobile, he’ll pick up any time soon. I didn’t care at the time, at the mercy of my emotions. But then this is how you took control in the first place, isn’t it? Have me reacting like a paranoid, hysterical woman with no obvious motivation. A heavy feeling starts to weigh me down, the aftermath of a surging adrenaline and cortisol party. A most debilitating hangover without the associated frivolities.
As I arrange my car alongside the wall, I notice a dark masculine figure marching swiftly towards me, intent in his stride, seemingly gaining pace at sight of my arrival. I remain still, too frozen to move; my eyes too tired to make him out. I haven’t planned what happens next. I don’t know what to expect or what to do. The sharp end of my car keys buries into the flesh of my hand, as I squeeze tight in a fight to regain some control. Straining to distinguish the approaching ghost of a figure. Should I make a run for my front door? But my legs are paralysed, unwilling to budge. I’m sitting prey. It’s the recurring nightmare, trying to run from something sinister, my legs refusing to cooperate, stumbling and falling. Vulnerable and exposed, I await my fate.
The figure begins to wave a hand at me as it draws closer. I exhale, as I just about determine the expressions of Ruan. My encumbered head falls into my hands, I’m so exhausted. All I want to do is retreat, lock the doors and hide away in the dark. Stick my head in the sand with a glass of something strong. Keep dreaming, Eve. I reach for my briefcase and climb out of my ticking, clicking car, the acrid whiff of hot metal and rubber being yet another reminder of a regretful past.
Ruan is now a few yards away, a worried look decorating his manifestation.
‘Hey,’ he calls out, slightly furry with alcohol. ‘What’s the problem? All the messages, what’s going on?’
‘Ruan. I’m sorry, I was just about to call you again, let you know everything’s okay.’ I sigh out. I don’t have the strength to discuss it tonight. I’ve run out of steam. I smile as convincingly as I can. ‘It’s all fine now. I panicked when I couldn’t get hold of Jack. My silly mistake. I’m really sorry I’ve dragged you away from your night.’
‘Panicked? Err. You could say that. Come on, Eve, what is it? What’s going on? You sounded well scared on the messages. What’s happened?’
‘It’s all far too complicated.’ I nod at the front door. ‘Bea and Matt are inside waiting too. If you don’t mind, I just need to get in.’ To see Jack with my own eyes. Ruan calmly joins my side and takes my briefcase from me, frowning at me as he does. ‘Sure,’ he says. As we start to walk the path I steal a look around us; are we being watched? Eyes smug, exultant with the reaction you’ve created tonight. Are you still here?
For a moment, I see them, your eyes, dark, deep, forceful, yet void.
I shiver to shake off the image.
We crash through the front gate. Jack is peering out of the front-room window, watching us approach, then he disappears to open the old oak door. A sudden feeling of emotion falls over me. I smile at him, attempting to convey a million words without leaving them with him. I want to wrap him in my arms and sob into his messy hair. He understands more than he lets on, I know he does.
He doesn’t need to utter a word; I see the haunted glimmer running through his eyes. The look you gave him. Not again. I hoped I wouldn’t see it ever again. A pain shoots through my chest. Jack still doesn’t speak; he knows. But what does he know? How much does he know? And for how long has he known? Do you remember more than you let on, Jack?
‘Forget the kettle,’ I say, looking through to the kitchen, noticing Bea at the tap, filling the yellow kettle. ‘I need a drink. There’s a bottle in the fridge, Bea. I’ll be back in a minute.’ I deliberately avoid any direct eye contact as I head upstairs for the bathroom. Wishing I could leave them all to it, hide up here with Jack, curled up under my winter-warm duvet, watching rubbish on the TV. Through the floorboards, I gratefully hear gentle banter as if the ridiculous and harried events had not just happened. Isn’t it comparable to days of old, when weird happenings are explained away as normal, everyone unassumingly carries on?
Moments later, I reluctantly return downstairs and take the coward’s way out, opting to use Jack as my excuse for not wanting to discuss my behaviour. Pulling Ruan and Bea to one side, I hold my hands out to them. ‘What can I say? Other than, I really cannot apologise enough about tonight. I realise my behaviour must look a little odd,’ I attempt.
‘That’s one word for it, I guess,’ Ruan affirms, knocking back his bottle of beer, leaning up against the beam.
I nod. ‘It’s extremely complicated, though, if you don’t mind, it’s not for everyone’s ears.’ I gesture in Jack’s direction; they both glance over. Subtlety or discretion not being either of their best points.
‘A clue maybe?’ Ruan urges me.
‘His father,’ I whisper. Ruan’s not going to let go, despite Bea elbowing him in his ribs. Saying father has made my skin crawl.
‘So? Do they not get on, then?’ he whispers, leaning off the beam, genuinely surprised. All my fault; I never speak about you. Why would I? I want to forget you ever lived, hoped you were dead.
Bea exhales heavily. ‘Well, obviously not. Leave Eve to tell us tomorrow. She’s right, now is not the time!’ She comes to my rescue. ‘Are you okay, though, Eve? Would you like me to stay with you tonight? D’you think there’s a chance he might turn up here later, then?’